Black-Eyed Susan, Page 2

  CHAPTER II--OVER THE GARDEN WALL

  Philip Vane! The words flashed into Susan's mind as soon as she openedher eyes the next morning, Philip Vane--the new little boy next door!And Susan jumped out of bed and, running to the window, peered eagerlyover at the old Tallman house.

  Yes, some one was already up and stirring, for smoke was pouring out ofthe kitchen chimney, but there was no sign to be seen of any little boy.

  Breakfast over, Susan hurried through her daily tasks about the house,and then ran out to the chicken-yard, with her bowl of chicken-feedunder her arm. She waited until the fowls, with their usual squawkingsand cluckings, had gathered about her feet, and addressed them solemnly.

  "I've a piece of news for you," said Susan, "and you are not going tohave one bite of breakfast until I've told you. There is a little boycoming to live next door, and his name is Philip Vane. We are going toplay together and be friends. Aren't you glad?"

  Old Frizzly, so named because her feathers grew the wrong way, could nolonger restrain her impatience at this delay of her meal. She uttered anextra loud squawk and flapped her wings wrathfully. But Susan acceptedit as an answer to her question.

  "Old Frizzly is the only one of you with any manners at all," said shereprovingly. "You are greedy, and you are rude, and you don't care a bitwhether I have any one to play with or not."

  And, hastily emptying her bowl, Susan departed to station herself uponthe low stone wall that separated the Tallman house from her own. Shesaw heads pass and repass the open windows, sounds of hammering floatedout upon the sweet spring air, rugs were vigorously shaken on the littleback porch. The butcher's cart rumbled noisily past on the main road,and a slim lady, with fair hair and a long blue apron, stepped out onthe porch and, shading her eyes with her hand, gazed down the drivewayas if she were expecting some one.

  But, in spite of these interesting sights and sounds, Susan feltdisappointed, for not a single peep did she have of the new little boy.

  "Did Miss Liza say there was a little boy, Grandmother?" asked Susan,coming into the house at dinner-time so low in her mind that she draggedpatient Flippy along by one arm, her limp feet trailing on the groundbehind her.

  "Why, yes," answered Grandmother, gazing into the oven at a pan ofnicely browned biscuit. "I told you yesterday what she said, Susan. 'Alittle boy about the age of your Susan,' said she. Now run to the doorfor me and see whether Grandfather is coming. I want him to carry overthis plate of biscuit to Mrs. Vane to show ourselves neighborly, and youshall go along with him if you like."

  Susan needed no second invitation. She skipped ahead of Grandfather asthey went through the low place made in the stone wall for Grandmotherand Miss Tallman to step through easily. But when they reached thedoorway, and Mrs. Vane stood before them, she shyly hid behindGrandfather's great leather boots.

  She listened to the grown-up talk with ears wide open for some mentionof a person her own age, but it was not until Grandfather turned to gothat she felt bold enough to slip her hand in his and give it a littlesqueeze as if to remind him why she had come.

  "Oh, yes," said Grandfather, understanding the squeeze perfectly and soproving himself to Susan the wisest man in the world. "This is my littlegranddaughter Susan, Mrs. Vane. She was very much interested in arocking-horse that fell from one of your vans yesterday."

  "That was Phil's rocking-horse," said Mrs. Vane, smiling kindly downinto Susan's big black eyes, at this moment half friendly and half shy."Philip is my little boy, and he will be so glad of a next-doorneighbor. He has had no one to play with in the city, and he has beenvery ill, too, but I know he will enjoy himself here where he can runand shout as much as he likes, and I'm sure he will soon be well, nowthat he can play out in this good sun and air."

  Susan looked all about her in search of a little boy running andshouting as much as he liked, but Phil's mother met her glance with ashake of the head.

  "No, he isn't here yet," said she. "But I expect him any minute. Hisfather is going to bring him up from the city this morning."

  Filled with the hope of seeing Phil arrive, Susan hurried through herdinner, but as she left the house and started toward the garden wall,the sight of Snuff limping dismally along on three legs drove all otherthoughts from her mind.

  "Grandfather, Grandfather, Snuffy's hurt," she called, and, putting herarms around her shaggy playfellow, she tried to help him up the backsteps.

  Snuff whimpered a little to gain sympathy, but he bore the pain withoutflinching when Grandfather gently pulled the cruel splinter from hisfoot, and washed and bound up the wound. Susan, remembering Snuff'ssweet tooth, begged a bowl of custard from Grandmother, and she wasenjoying Snuff's pleasure in the treat when a voice fell upon her ears.

  "I'm here," said the voice. "I've come. I'm Phil."

  Susan sprang to her feet and faced the thinnest little boy she had everseen.

  "He's as thin as a bone," thought she, borrowing an expression fromGrandmother.

  But the thin little face owned a pair of honest blue eyes, and a smileso wide that you couldn't help smiling back even if you happened to befeeling very cross. And, as Susan didn't feel cross in the least, youmay imagine how broadly she smiled upon her new neighbor.

  "Is this your dog?" asked Phil, eyeing Snuff's bandage with respectfulinterest. "I'm going to have a dog and a cat and maybe some hens andchickens, too."

  Susan related Snuff's accident, and the invalid, feeling all eyes uponhim, dropped his head heavily to the ground with a deep sigh and amournful thud of his tail. Then he opened one eye to see the effect uponhis audience.

  Susan and Phil broke into laughter at such sly tricks, and Snuff,delighted with his success, beat his tail violently upon the piazzafloor.

  "I brought over my Noah's Ark," announced Phil, taking from under hisarm the gayly painted little house upon which Susan's eyes had beenfixed from the first. "We'll play, if you like."

  And Susan and Phil, with the ease of old friends, proceeded to marshalthe strange little toy animals in line, two by two, behind Mr. and Mrs.Noah and their stiff and stolid family.

  "Now you sing a song," said Phil. "Do you know it?" And without waitingfor Susan's shake of the head he burst loudly into tune:

  "They marched the animals, two by two, One wide river to cross-- The elephant and the kangaroo, One wide river to cross."

  "But you see the kangaroo won't stand up, so I have to put the tigerwith the elephant. Then you sing it this way"

  And he took up the chant again:

  "They marched the animals, two by two, One wide river to cross-- The elephant and the tigeroo, One wide river to cross."

  "Do you like it?" asked Phil, looking up into Susan's face with a smile.

  Susan nodded with an energy that set her curls a-bobbing.

  "There's Grandmother in the window," said she. "Let's go in and seeher."

  Grandmother put down her knitting to welcome Philip, and bade Susan passthe cinnamon cookies.

  "I know my mother likes me to eat them," announced Phil, silent until hehad disposed of his cooky, "because she wants me to grow fat."

  "Perhaps she would like you to take another one," said Grandmother,hiding a smile and passing the plate again.

  "I was sick," went on Phil, whose tongue seemed loosened by the secondcinnamon cooky. "I was sick so long I nearly all melted away. My fathercalls me Spindle Shanks. But I'm going to grow big and fat now--if I eatenough," he added with his eyes on the plate of cakes.

  Each with a cooky in hand and an extra one in Phil's pocket, Susanescorted her new friend down Featherbed Lane in the hope thatGrandfather would invite them into the office.

  He was writing busily, but when Susan and Phil, clinging to thewindow-sill, all but pressed their noses against the pane, Grandfatherput down his pen and motioned them to come in.

  "How do you do, sir," said Grandfather as Phil shook hands in true manlyfashion. "So you are my next-door neighbor. I hope we shall be goodfriends."


  "Oh, he will, Grandfather," said Susan, speaking up for her newacquaintance, who, standing speechless, allowed his gaze to travel fromthe high boots up to the quizzical brown eyes looking so pleasantly downupon him.

  "Well, neighbor, we shall have to fatten you up a little, I'm thinking,"remarked Grandfather heartily, observing thin little Phil in his turn.

  "Yes," agreed Phil, finding his tongue at last and taking a nibble ofhis cooky as if to begin the fattening process at once.

  "I mean to eat and grow fat. My mother wants me to; she said so. Myfather calls me Spindle Shanks," he added, as if rather proud of his newname.

  "Is that so?" said Grandfather with interest. "Now I shouldn't havethought of calling you that. But I might have called you 'Pint o'Peanuts' if any one had asked me."

  Phil and Susan went off into a fit of laughter at this funny name, andwhen they recovered Grandfather remarked gravely:

  "The best thing to do in a case like this is to build up an appetite.Susan, you go with Philip up to his house and ask his mother if she willlet him take a little drive with Parson Drew and you and me over toGreen Valley. Be sure to tell her it's to work up an appetite. Then cutacross and tell Grandmother we are going to the Green Valley Court-Houseand that we shall be home by five o'clock."

  Grandfather was forced to stand on the doorstep and call the last partof his directions after Susan. For at the first mention of a drive shehad caught Phil's hand and started on a run up the driveway leading tohis house.

  Mrs. Vane hastily polished off her son with a corner of the kitchenroller towel, snuggled him into a warm sweater, and sent word toGrandfather that she was very glad to have Philip go driving, though hedidn't need to work up an appetite she was sure.

  Grandmother made Susan hunt for her straw hat which, strange to say, wasnot to be found upon its accustomed nail. Grandmother and Phil searcheddownstairs, while Susan ran about frantically upstairs, so afraid theywould be late that she could only half look. But at last she discoveredher hat upside down under the bed, with rubber Snowball taking a nap init, just as Susan had put her to bed the day before.

  In spite of this delay the children were in good time, and with Susanwedged tightly on the seat between Grandfather and the minister, andPhil standing between the great leather boots with either hand onGrandfather's knee, they drove off in fine style.

  Mr. Drew was the village minister, a young man with a pleasant mannerand a twinkle in his kind blue eyes. He and Grandfather were specialfriends. They liked to talk together, though they rarely agreed, andsometimes became so excited in their talk that you might almost thinkthey were quarreling. But of course Susan knew better than that.

  Grandfather's horse, big bony Nero, had hurt his knee and had beenturned out to grass to rest and recover. So this afternoon Mr. Drew heldthe reins and chirruped gently to his little brown Molly as she carriedthem briskly along the road.

  As the grown-up talk rumbled on over her head, Susan peered out like abright-eyed bird, and at every interesting landmark or familiar spot shecalled, "Look, Phil, look!" until from its frequent turning there wassome danger that Phil's head might snap completely off its frail littleneck.

  "There is the old schoolhouse, Phil," called Susan. "We can play houseon the doorstep.

  "And here is the row of cherry trees. By and by we will come here with apail.

  "And, Phil, the crossest old cow lives in this field. Don't you evercome here by yourself. Once I only climbed up on the fence to look ather, and she put down her head and ran at me. And how she did moo--ascross as anything."

  "I'm not afraid of her," said Phil stoutly, as, safe behind the shelterof Grandfather's boots and bowling swiftly along the road, he cast adefiant look at the surly bossy securely fastened by a rope to a stoutstake in the ground. "Maybe I'll take you there sometime. I won't lether hurt you."

  But the cow was left behind them, and Susan called Phil to look at thepoultry farm, with its ducks and geese, its hens and chickens, cacklingcheerfully and running about in amiable confusion.

  Now they were nearing the town of Green Valley, and down the hill andover the bridge they rumbled to stop before the imposing stoneCourt-House, with its parking-space for automobiles and its row ofhitching-posts, to one of which was tied little brown Molly.

  Susan danced impatiently up and down as Grandfather descended heavily tothe sidewalk.

  "Oh, Grandfather," said she, catching hold of his hand, "I want to takePhilly to Madame Bonnet's. May I? Please say 'yes.'"

  "To be sure," answered Grandfather, feeling in his pocket as he spoke."It will be a good place for you to wait. Here's ten cents apiece. Spendit carefully, and be sure you don't get lost on the way."

  Susan laughed as she caught Phil by the arm and dragged him off. Lost onthe way to Madame Bonnet's! when every one in the world knew it was justacross the street from the Court-House.

  Once safely over the crossing Susan stopped and pointed:

  "Look, Phil," said she. "It's the nicest place you ever knew. Here itis. Here's Madame Bonnet's shop."